Sweet Surrender
by detoxsun
Summary: Loki has a guilty pleasure: food. More specifically, ice cream. Darcy may have plans to manipulate it into a kink.


**DetoxSun: Hey! This is my first story - and, well, with the sad, severe lack of LokixDarcy, I figured this was a good point to break into it. 3**

**Reviews are loved; but please, no flaming. Constructive criticism is okay, though. [[:**

**Disclaimer: I don't own anything. I'm just borrowing all these fabulous characters & fandom for my own, non-profit amusement.**

**Enjoy!**

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><p>As much as Loki enjoyed his schemes in enslaving the Earth, there was one thing he enjoyed much more then that – food.<p>

It was quite understandable, of course. Though a God, he needed nourishment like any other being, though he could certainly go much longer without it. Asgard held grant feasts, and banquets; always stocked with a wide array of exquisitely prepared food laid out like masterpiece. He had thought that the fine Asgardian food would be something he would miss whilst being the supreme overlord on Earth; it was, after all, an understandable presumption.

But, _oh_, how he was wrong.

The sweet smell of the little parlor was sending little shivers down his spine; the aroma curling around his senses like a lover in a gentle caress. Some part of his brain realized he was being just a tad ridiculous in his love for his particular treat, but he couldn't quite bring himself to care – not with twenty different flavors of ice cream staring at him.

Taunting.

Inviting.

Daring him to try a bit, and not walk off with an entire tub to eat off of a spoon while analyzing the tactics of his enemies. It wasn't like he had not done that particular scenario before, since he had; a few days ago, in fact, with some divine Pistachio Almond. The tub hadn't lasted him more then a few hours, due to his absent-minded spoonfuls that seemed never ending until it was actually _gone_. Loki had considered going on a rage simply because he had no more ice cream, and this particular parlor was closed on Sundays, quite seriously. And, well, Gods didn't steal ice cream. No matter how much they wanted them.

So, like a well-behaved, cultured Norse God, he waited until Monday afternoon to stop by Blueberry Mountain – which was a silly name as far as he was concerned; the establishment was neither a "blueberry" nor on or near a "mountain". But, he allowed that bit of human failing to slide, considering how he was practically addicted to their ice cream. Naturally, he could not go in as _himself_, but it was a small price to pay; a simple enchantment and he had successfully stolen an acceptable body to consume his daily fix in. The young, bottle-blond woman serving him new him by name – which in this body, was Mr. Fey.

"Good afternoon, Mr. Fey! What can I get you today?"

Oh, sweet Josie; so young, so naïve…and quite the kiss-up, if one was frank. Still, he smiled politely, eyes gazing over the dozens of artificially flavored delicacies that he would happily slip into a (temporary) coma for. Feeling a little daring, he eyed a particular tub for a moment, biting his lip slightly, before offering his final choice: "Strawberry Cheesecake, please; in a waffle cone, with the malt ball on the bottom…thank you." He _did_enjoy his malt balls, after all. He'd gotten lucky enough once to get two, and now, he is understandably sad when there is none. But, he'd settle for one. For now, at least. His patience wasn't exactly legendary, after all.

_But neither was his sweet-tooth._

Loki paid the woman when handed his treat (wallet stolen from the man next to him), and he eased himself out of the growing line, and in an empty seat by the window. The place was cool inside, and he had a odd fascination with watching mortals walk by – something about analyzing their stance, facial expressions, and the like…it was intriguing. Also, he saw a few of the Avengers run on by when he'd come to this shop after setting a few distractions out from them. It took a bit of willpower not to feel too incredibly smug, as he watched them race toward a giant cinder block, while he was in the air conditioning, licking away at a chocolate.

It was his favorite classic, and the one he got most often; but, of course, he enjoyed a selection, and had no issue with testing the more exotic flavors the parlor had to offer. Loki tried not to discriminate against ice cream; if only because it was so cool and delicious.

The first flick of his tongue against the cheesecake flavor was met with a small, breathless gasp; no one heard it, of course, but he still _knew_ it happened. He should be appalled at his lack of restraint, but he wasn't. The next lap along the treat came smoothly, gathering a small dollop into his mouth to swallow properly. It was very tasty, and his eyes half-closed his pleasure. Strawberry exploded in his mouth, mingled with the taste of cheesecake, that had no definite flavor to pin point; but it caused a few Goosebumps and hairs to raise on the back of his neck. The mound of ice cream was worked over like a lover; his dexterous tongue shrinking the cream expertly, catching any melting trails, and smoothing away any ridges or gaps that formed in the process. Then, there was a sudden, extra pop of strawberry mixed with a bit of the waffle cone that broke off – he _moaned_.

Damn; he shifted slightly, and half-heartedly attempting to cover it up with a cough. Someone definitely had to have heard that, though, despite his 'attempts' at masking the slip-up.

But, really, he more was inwardly choked up about the thought of needing to find another ice cream parlor to go to, judging by the looks Josie was giving him - ranging from _shocked_ to eternally _scandalized_.

The woman would never serve him another ice cream cone again, he just knew it.


End file.
